This is the travel blog my Mum told me I had to have. I left Brisbane on the 4th of December and will return at the end of the World Cup. I can't promise to update regullary, but at least in the short term I will update with stories from the road. I will try to report the truth but a little bit of Gonzo should also be expected from time to time. Funtheque is the name of the most happening club I found in Malaysia - so I decided to name the blog that to honour the memory.

Sunday, October 28, 2007


So the trip home did not go well, first my lame attempts to preempt the body clock change by staying up late in London just meant that I was tired a lot, then the nice quite dinner in London to say good bye turned into an epic battle vs a host of generals that resulted in an extremely hungover Bill having to battle the tube to Heathrow resulting in a poor attitude towards domestic travel, let alone international travel.

Then the big plan to sleep on the plane resulted in exactly 0 minutes of sleep for the full 30 hours of travelling- left home at 8 am Thursday morning and got into the Shangri La right on midnight Friday- it was not the best thing that has ever happened. Once off the plane I had to go out with the lads, resulting in the much needed sleep being delayed even further. Saturday more disasters occured when yours truly bravely took on the favorites in the big race, only to see the one horse I didn't want to win ruin my trifecta chances. More problems occured Saturday night when tracked us down in Wello Point and once again the desperatly needed sleep was put off.

Against better advice we did get up for golf Sunday morning, once again only 3 hours of sleep was achieved, the tragedy here was that I got done not by better skilled oponents but by the wobbles hitting inexplicably as we made the turn going 9.9, to ruin a handy looking round. The final tragedy of the journey occurred this evening when our Aria's party turned into a massive bust when I had a jet lag crash and needed a sleep, now of course its the middle of the night and I can't sleep- unruckii...

Anyways, overall I'm currently at 10.5 hours of sleep in the last 3 or so days, things are not going overly well. On the up side the overall plan was to get home, go out boozing, put on some bets, catch up with my peeps, get laid, tee it up, and go to the beach- so far the only thing remaining to do is hit the beach and that should be achieved tomorrow morning.

And so we have reached the end, not really sure where the future for this blog lies, but for the whole travel blog concept I am no longer travelling so who knows? it was good.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

The Trip At A Glance

For those who haven't been keeping up with their Funtheque'ing here is a quick snapshot of the trip:

Funtheque, Covent Garden Walkie, She Bo/Church/She Bo, Monkey Leaves, New Years at Brick Lane, Bobby shutting me out, Red Back Oz Day, Waitangi Day at Big Ben, Walkie Pub Crawl, Spurs Fullham 4-0, Bobby Leaves, High Rolling at Monte Carlo, F+L at Rascasse, Lady Anna of Fire, Stonehenge/Badminton/Bath in one day, Engrishness party, Browns on the Wharf, the history of the bike, Steyns kick at the Shafterbury Avenue, missing the train to Dover, starving in Dunkirk-lost in Ghent, Bogged in Ghent, Free Camping Compignere, Jean the Sud African, Davrossi 90210, twice in one day, Col De Colombiere, parking on a 9% angle, hardbodies in Geneva, broken at UNESCO, F+L Geneva, Antibes, Pantsed at Monte Carlo, old town Montpellier, 50 HOURS ON THE MOUNTAIN, Dave the legend, camping Masnou, sign language in Pamplona, kloss breaks, Nudist camp site, More rose in Cahors, the Freedom, Champs Elyse, The Freedom, get rid of the lads, Vercingetorix statue, the beach Villenerve Loubert, Trapped by a troll, Maranello, Puc Fest, No F1 in Lucca, no Uffizi in Firenze, lame old Collosimo, finding religion at St Pietro, being a hater in Naples, watch out for the Volcano Pompeii, battle of Cannae, F+L in Bari, biggest motorhome on the ferry, F+L on the road to Delphi, lots of beach time in Greece, lose the bus in Larissa, finally like the place in Thessalonki, Free Wifi in Turkey, Gallipoli, Camping Istanbul, Will I ever see a champion win a race? Istanbul, Bulgaria, Serbia in a day, Eyes out of the head in Belgrade, not feet down in Croatia, Slovenia, back to Italia, too cool in Venice, Nubucco under the stars in Verona, tricking my way into the Last Supper, Testing in Monza, F+L at the border, Mountain climbing in the Messy Dayz, getting cut in Paris by the Griff, Duggan + Kloss and the Planet Hollywood, Fuc lost on the Champs, Lyon for the opener, the blow up screen, Wristy is born, Jay and Super T, Fuc 0 Charlie 1, Cat the hottie, the Mayor of Lyon, Fuc rides again on the ferry, parting of the ways in Londres, the Roadhouse, sick and lost Cardiff, Huggy Bears Boogey Bar, BT's not a closer, so close Canada, traffic on the M4, free camping in Calais, tears at the Somme, gaye Paris, Chris White ruins the night, the Time Warp, long haul to montpellier, another Ayers Rock, BT's not a closer, Antibes again, thrown out, 100 shots, Wristy and BT bug out, no campsites in Bordeaux, Tunnies German Adventure, too much Rose, back to the beach again, pantsed again in Monte Carlo, Crystal Jerks in Cannes, Fuc 0 Charlie 2, tragedy in Marseille, BT steals Kloss's passport, dumping the bus, escaping on the Eurostar, stuck in London, Abbey Road is lame, thank christ for Kimi, home at last.

Lamest Tourist Attractions Ever

Wow, I've been around you know, and I can tell you that London is the worlds most boring city to get stuck in for a fortnight after you've spent your summer going around Europe.

After the extreme success that was the bug out from France I was very positive about my chances of an early flight home and a few weeks recovering on the beach in Brunswick. Unfortunately it was not to be, my travel agent could not come up with a seat any earlier then the one I had previously organised so I had to deal with the tragedy of an entire fortnight sitting around this dark and deary city.

Desperation set in after a day or two sitting on the couch, so I've been searching around for ways to fill my days - its been a stretch. First I tried computer games - Age of Empires and Tiger Woods golf for PC are excellent games, but unfortunately theres only so much time one could spend on a computer.

So I decided to be a little bit active, and decided to play golf. With a glint in my eye and clubs under my arms I set of across Hackney to the little par 3 course that doubles for a Golf Course over here. The play was horrible, as was the conditions- Fucking England, a delightful bright day, but it was still freezing cold, in the end it wasn't enjoyable at all.

Almost out of answers I decided to try some of the many tourist attractions that were still left for me to see in Londres. I had deliberately left Lords till last when I was here earlier in the year, so I set off to do that for the day. It turned out that right near Lords was Abbey Road and the Abbey Road Studios- famous for the Beatles album cover, BT and Wristy had put me onto it earlier in the trip. So I went along, and I can say without reservation (up to this point) that it was the lamest thing I have ever seen.

(Its a fucking Zebra Crossing for Christ Sakes)

Anyways, I spent maybe thirty seconds watching the lame wads running across the road whenever the traffic lightened to get their pictures taken then headed off to Lords in disgust. Thankfully Lords was an excellent way to pass some time, well worth the visit, the perfect way to get my head in the right place for the upcoming battle of the Gabba Stack A Thon.

(Brighton Peer- A new contender for lamest tourist attraction ever)

Anyways, that was last Thursday, so Friday I decided to do a day trip to Brighton, famous for its beaches and its Peer. I was picturing something along the lines of Cannes, maybe Nice, certainly not Monaco, but something pretty cool at least. Simply it was just another town, with a lame beach and a Peer- not really knowing what to expect I went to the Peer- and it wasn't very exciting- anyways, I don't want to run it down too much- see it for yourself. But I won't be going back.

I woke up on Saturday thankful that I had managed to live through the week, but then realised that I still had a full week to go in this snore town. Saturday I watched the rugby- was good, got very drunk, Sunday watched the F1- was good, got very drunk. And since then I have spent all my time sitting on the couch watching the clock tick down towards Thursday lunch time - 46 hours to go- very excited.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Running Away

Our only idea in the world after the horror that was Marsaille was getting the hell off the continent. Of course that was never going to be as simple as you would have hoped it would be, we had to get rid of the bus, pack or bin all our worldly possessions and somehow post the Kloss Push Cycle back to Australie.

We hired the bus in Frankfurt, so in theory were supposed to drop it back there, but no one, and I mean not a single one of us, were interested in going any where near the Rhineland so we decided that they would just have to let us leave our bus in Paris (David Duchovny is an executive producer in Californication- now we know how he got to bed the Madeline Zima character...) so Sunday early we woke up for Fuc to do the big drive to Marseille airport for Ness, BT and his flight to Cairo. Nothing is ever simple with Fuc unfortunately so we all had to get out bed to aid in the navigation, and of course a bit of hide thier baggage high jinks. Anyways we eventually got them to the airport an hour after we planned and we assume they got off to Eygpt all right.

This left the Kapitan, Wristy and I with three days to get to Paris for the Kloss to fly out and the bus to be dropped off. We decided to head to Lyon, site of our most rock n roll weekend on the trip (free drinks in Premier Class on the Eurostar- rock n roll) anyways, Lyon city of dreams, we set off for one last night out in our favorite town. Unfortunatly the Ayers Rock was not open when we blew into town so our plans for the evening were dashed.

Thankfully the Fijians decided to play one of the more exciting matches of the world cup that afternoon so our day wasn't a total wash, eventually the Aussie Pub of dreams opened and we partied for a few hours, but our hearts weren't really in it, the cumulative effect of 100 days straight on the turps and the come down of our crazy Friday night were stopping us from really getting going.

The next day we left early for Paris intent on getting out of town as fast as possible, nothing wrong with that things were going well. We were chipper, we were going home, we were so high on life we decided to have an AFD - after 100 days it seemed like the thing to do (FUCK ME - they just brought around a kick arse lunch menu- for an extra 100 euro Class 1 is definatly worth the money- were talking, Caribbean Pork Curry or Sea Bream with a side dish of salmon + veges and a blueberry tart).

It was when we got to Paris that things began to go wrong, over the course of the trip everyone has taken turns using their passports to check us into campsites, everyone but the Kloss that is, so most of us had a good idea where our passports where, most of us but the Kloss that is. He had lost it. That's right LOST HIS PASSPORT, the man is rediculous enough to have lost the most valuable identification document he had. The Fear and Loathing descended, to add to the chaos we had to deal with cleaning the bus and binning about 15 bags worth of rubbish off the bus, and we realized that McRent didn't have a return office in Paris- we managed to stick to our AFD pledge, but it wasn't the relaxing eve we had imagined.

So the next morning we got up bright and early and went to the embassy in order for Kloss to get out fo the country - right? Wrong, we fucked about for hours and hours and then headed into town, I wasn't impressed. We eventually got into town and went to the Embassy, it turned out that getting a replacement passport was fucking simple so our F&L dissipated for the moment. Our next challange was getting rid of the push bike - the plan was to simply rock up to Fedex and get a box - the survey says Unruckiii.

Things were getting bleaker, Kloss was going to be able to fly out of the country in 24 hours, but it looked to me that I was going to be driving the bus to Frankfurt and somehow wheeling Kloss' bike onto the plane- I got a descent wack of the Loathing at this point. Thankfully once we got back to the bus we manged to find a big box at Carrefours and the Germans came through allowing us to drop the bus in Paris. Life was good again, so we decided to have an epic night on the booze to say good bye to our favorite moterhome- The Messy Dayz Express. Good times, good times.

So this morning we had a series of challenges, drop the bus to campsite on the other side of town, pick up the Kloss's new passport, go to Fed Ex, drop TGO to Gare De Nord, and get on flights home. Plenty of to do items, somehow we pulled it off; we cried when we said goodbye to Messy and everything else went perfectly. The lads dropped me at the Train station at around ten to twelve and by 19 past we were speeding off towards Londres, we've just entered a tunnel- Bills Continental European Adventure is OVER!!!

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Getting the Fuck Out

So after Bordeaux we headed down to the Cote. Tempers were short, attitudes were poor, tensions were simmering, the only thing we could do for the week was head to the greatest coast in the world and recharge our batteries.

For all those who don't know the Cote De Azur streches from St Tropez to Menton just off the Italian border and inclueds Cannes, Antibes, Nice, Eze and Monaco. We chose a camp site just outside of Cannes which was only 500 metres from the beach- a result. We had the perfect week on the coast holiday (right till the end) time on the beach, a few day trips, and a couple of Nice (sic) dinners.

Tuesday night we had dinner at The Festival (we were tourists...) in Cannes, the tax man will eventually see a claim for this one (thank christ Fuc and Cheese are clients) as we went a little bit silly.

Wednesday we went down to Marsaille to get the QF tickets and then did a quick tour of St Tropez, which was a little disapointing but did have a cool sailing regatta on (seriously 1000 yachts on the harbour) (look for TGO sporting a Voile St Tropez shirt (Dav get your French transaltor out)) (how am I going with the paranthesis in this post?). Thursday we did the day trip to Monaco - Fuc and Ness were suitably wowed by Cafe de Paris, The Fairmont, and the Casino Monte Carlo. I however was a little miffed when I went to the Ranier III complex for a quick dip and big yellow ducked behind the clouds, also bringing a downer to the day was when Fuc cleaned house on the black jack tables and Ness cleaned house on the messy Dayz express poker tournament... seriously she had three buy in's and then managed to fluke a victory at the end of the night - she may have won 50 bucks, but it only cost me 5 - that's how many times she and Rhys brought back in.

Anyways, Friday was the end of our perfect week in the coast so we hit the beach for some serious getting our Tans on. Late in the afternoon we realized that it was our last night in the South of France, so was our last chance to have a night out with Cheese (for like years I am talking about- he is never coming home), So where were we? right the Friday night, last chance for the Kloss, Cheese and TGO show to reconnect for years. We decided for Cannes as the scene of our freakout, and a freak out it was. I decided to wear my EMO outfit just too set the tone for the evening, when we walked into Mac Dee's Cannes and their were a bunch of teenage punks waiting in line they couldn't believe the figure I was cutting.

We started with a quaint Irish bar, but quickly grew tired of that when Super T and Charlie showed up so we headed for Tantra, a far too cool club just off the main tourist strip that aided us in our campaing to go insane. Crystal and shots flowed in a way that isn't appropriate for out of work bums who are driving a camper around Europe. It was seriously the most rock n roll we have ever achieved. There was champagne drunk from the magnum, champaigne poored over girls clevages, shots poured down randoms throats, grindings from whores with stripper bodies, and much dancing on tables/seats. For the full effect I will throw to my notes:

"Kloss just used the Ari Gold hurricane hand gesture 4 doubling up on a magnum of Krystal; Uncle Charlie is circling the block in his hired Puegot 306 waiting, just waiting, for another victim; Fuc and Super T are dancing on their seats, Fuc dances like a dream; Cheese is lost to us, girls throughout the club are wondering what does 'Do you want to see my Galley?' mean (ed: he's a chef on a super yacht- work it out); ITs 5 oclock somehere, but its 1 am here, there could be a QF in 13 hours from now, but right now Ness is in too ticht D+G brand new jeans which are crying out for some inappropriatness. More to follow. PS- EMO Bill is on debut."

+ 3 Minutes: " Kloss just skulled from our fresh magnum, fed to him by our police hat wearing waiter, ACDC was briefly pumped over the top of the house crap in respect. I'm asking for a rolex in 45 minutes."

Much Later: "A fucking Sepo promised me pilles in the pisser line, he just stole the birthday girl and her friends out of my arms, Fucking J Lo's people (ed: I didn't get the pills). The lads have broken part of the roof with their hands from too much dancing."

"We've moved on now, Tristan all 6 foot of his fucking frame is talking to Lili (ed: her name was actually Lori), Kloss has usurped me for 'I don't know her name" but Lili works with the Rock, so is cooler (ed: the chicks were production type people in Hollywood). I have been shuffled to third in the pack. Note: When dealing with hollywood types do mention your height and wealth, do not mention Stone Cold Steve Austin or your shorter statuer. Ness says high."

By Kloss: "Dear Lori, I love you so much I cant stand it. I will wear glitter every day to make you happy. I will paint my toenails balck to fulfuil all your sexual fantasys. That is all you have asked of me and that is 'unclear word'. I love you. Always, Kloss."

Hey man look at me rocking out I'm on the radio. So obviously the more astute of you would have realised we moved onto a second club, it was called Le Blitz. they had copius amounts of Glitter on the tables so we spread it all over ourselves, seriously it is a week later and I still have glitter on me. They also had a girl selling shots and lap dances for 10 euros' a steal. Chesse talked our way into a VIP section by telling them we were wallabies- it worked well.

Anyways, eventually the night came to an end- as they all do, it was dawn. We left the club around 5 and decided to go for a swim when we got back to the campsite. The sun wasn't up so we decided to get naked. Fuc set a record for the longest nudie run ever, I don't know how the 1.2 km round trip from the campsite to the beach and back took us 90 minutes, we only swam for 5 of those minutes, but if anyone can claim to a longer nudey run, in public, I doff my cap to them. Eventually we went to bed 7:30.

90 minutes later we were up and driving to Marsaille, 150 km's doesn't seem too long the night before but when your bus ways 4.5 tonnes and you are still drunk from the biggest night of your life, its a hellish trip.

Anyways, not much happened after that, I think some rugby was played, who really knows, I know the AB's LOST, that's right LOST, they CHOKED, the Wallabies were beaten by the reigning champs, the AB's lost to the monkey's who struggled to beat the Irish, that's right the Irish, earlier in the year. That's a respectible result.

Right now we are doing all we can do to dump the bus (the messy dayz stickers have been removed) and get the fuck out of continental Europe. Soon pet, Soon.

Friday, October 5, 2007

Cabin Fever

Cabin Fever is a killer, its well documented, when you get stuck in your cabin for too long a crazy fever decends and you go on a killing spree of your fellow campers.

We first encounted this horrible afliction in Sydney 05, the ICC Super Test, the three tour de fearists and RWC blow in Fuc spent four nights in an 8 by 10 cell doubling as a Hostel Room. Well after three long days at the cricket the final night of that trip has lived in infamy as four people lay on seperate beds not sleeping, but not acknowleding each others presence, all caught in a personal hell that should never be shared with any other. Three days of hard drinking sent our bodies into a strange kind of non sleeping/non talking/ violently smelling funk that made for one of the worst nights sleep I have ever had. The piece de resistance that night came around 4 am as the mighty Kloss made the mad dash for the bathroom for a second taste of the previous nights dinner.

We thought we had learnt alot from that experience, we thought we would never run across the evils of cabin fever again (we certainly have never gotten so small a hostel room again...). At le tour we managed to stave off cabin fever, even when we sat on the side of the Plateau de Belle for 50 hours, the memory of our Sydney nightmare ensuring that all respected each others space.

It turns out that at RWC we have picked up a few greenhorns, a few less hearty soles who don't have internal defences against the forces of evil. It started last week after we got thrown out of our campsite in Villinerve Lobout. The weather turned on us that day and we got stuck in the bus, and really stuck, all the towels got soaked, as well as the tents, we were stuck in an 8 m by 3 m motorhome for about 48 hours (well some were, the more adventerous of us spent copious time in the sauna and in Antibes) and it turned out to be more then some could handle. So BT and Duggan tapped out on Friday and caught a plane to Scotland, the thought of spending even one more second in the bus was too much for them. The fever had struck them down, the pace apparently was a little too much for those southern girly mean.

The rest of us had to hit the old frog and toad for the western city of Bordeaux and the Aussie Canadia final pool match. We were slow getting on the road and slow intransit, so slow in fact that by the time we got to the destination there were no campsites with in 100 kilometres. So after our two days of hell on the Cote we were all of a sudden faced with the prospect of two nights free camping on the back streets of Bordeaux, the remaining green horn- Ness, was on the ragged edge (we were also out of water in the bus- I told her to shower that morning, its not my fault she choose to go without...).

Saturday was game day, so we woke early and moved the bus from the Truck stop we slept in, into the middle of town, finding a deamon car park on a side street just near the main train station. We had to jam the bus up on the sidewalk to ensure traffic could still flow, but we felt if was a fair spot.

The game was a bit of a wash, the combination of the Wallabies third stringers, the rain, and referee Chris White (is this mother fucker seriously haunting us at the moment or what?) ensured that the game was a complete snore fest, that was of course until late in the second half when Tiquiri earnt himself the nickname of 'Le Butcher' after merclesly butchering one of the most cut and dried try scoring oppurtunities I have ever scene. The man is without redeeming qualities, I can not CAN NOT believe he was not immediatly dragged from the field in disgrace- it was so horrifying it was actually quite funny. As he approached the line we all began taunting him with the Butcher call- although it looked like we were the ones who would have egg on our face as Drew Mitchel loomed on his shoulder, completely unmarked with only 5 metres to go to the line, but some how, the monkey that is the Butcher of Bordeaux decided to go himself and distroyed the simplest five pointer in the history of Rugby Football- How the man continues to justify the air that he breathes is beyond me.

We had been told in Montpellier that the place to party in Bordeaux would be the Frog and Rosebif, so after some warm up pints watching the mighty Fiji deal with the Welsh we headed down to the Frog in search of glory. What we found were married women, it was crazy, we spoke met four females almost without trying and I was getting excited about our prospects in Bordeus but each one (we met them individually) ended up introducing us to their husbands, whores.

After a few hours of swinging and missing, and the stupid Itai's losing to the equally stupid Scotts we decided to head off in search of adventure, Fuc swore he had found a "way cool" Absolute bar earlier in the day, so he lead the charge in search of new fun. Hours (seemed to) pass as we walked the cobbled stoned streets of the old quarter looking for this fucking Vodka bar - on the upside it was a spectacular way to get some quality touristing done, but on the downside we began to sober up. Young Michel Tunny (its Michel not Michael in french) took the initiative and got a nice looking older lady (apparently the tunny age group these days) to show us to a happening bar. We ended up at a club called Bodega Bodega, which was cool, but eventually we had to leave as the irony of the decor (cured meats and hams hanging above the bar) and the presence of the newly crowned Bucther of Bordeaux standing at the bar became too much to bear - on a side note we left the club at 11:55 and he was still there- either he can run faster back to a hotel to beat curfew then he can on the field, or J Oniel has the wool pulled over his eyes.

We headed back to the bus, a little early maybe, but it had been a long day. As we got back to the bus a group of German students were walking by on their way to the random Dance club that just happened to be on the same side street as the M D Express... a result. As everyone knows we hired the Messy Dayz in Frankfurt so we have been putting up with having a D on our number plate for the entire trip, this time is was a bonus however, 'You come from Germany' the cute brunette asked in a think Rhineland accent, "no australia" Kloss and Fuc mangaed to stutter, "Ma moname est Michel" (no idea how to spell the German) old Tunny pronounced in a clear thick voice as he crossed the street to welcome our new friends- they were suitabley impressed by his grade 8 German that they invited us to the Boogey Woogey bar down the road.

After a few drinks back in the bus I got up to go to the clubs, hopeful that at least one of my wing men would be up for the challange I looked at each in turn. Michel was too spent from his German speaking endevours to be able to back it up at the clubs, Fuc was too scared that his dark features would get him ostrazised with a group of Germans, and Kloss was just too old to be out after midnight- so I went in alone. A quick shout out to Maria, Cat and Stephanie- thanks for the good night. Eventually we left the club and I headed back to the Messy Days, unfortunatly we had parked the bus in such a way that the only way in was threw the Drivers Door, which you can't get into if someone is in the Hammock Bed, Fuc in all his wisdom was in the hammock. I was dealing with the problem of getting into the bus when my German friends, who I thought I had struck out with came up and suggested we move the party inside the bus... Now I'm no Don Juan but even I can see the signs, we were finally in the position were girls we actually wanted to sleep with (sorry the lesbians in Cardiff) wanted to bored the Messy Days Express, I ummed and I ahhed, I tried to lift the Hammock bed up with Fuc still inside, I suggested we go back to their place, but the moment was gone. Fuc had quite litteraly cock blocked me. The girls left and eventually I managed to wake Fuc up to let me in the bus, but it was a long cold night tossing and turning with only him to cuddle with.

One thing about free camping is you often get stuck in the bus more then you do when at a campsite, you can't really set up the Messy Dayz card table and chairs when your on the side of the road. So by Sunday the lingering Cabin Fever that had struck Ness, BT, and Wristy in Antibes was beggining to have its effect on the rest of us. We tried to avoid it by getting inappropriatly drunk at the big screen in the middle of town (Rose- the silent killer) but it didn't work. The Messy Dayz was transformed into a time machine and all of a sudden we were back in the Hostel Room in Sydney, Four people on the tail end of a week long bender, bodies refusing the much needed sleep that was on offer, body heat and sweat making conditions comparable to the Mekong Delta. I hid in the Fort setting my defenses against any possible fever driven attacks from fellow bus members and listened in fear to the tossing and turning that ensured. Once again it was Kloss who broke, he didn't drive the porcelean (well its more plastic in the MD Express) bus but he eventually swore "Fuck it I need to get out of here" and started the bus and drove us out of Bordeaux, none of us were complaining, it was the sensible option. We drove the entire day with all windows open, no one speaking, no one even making eye contact, just in a frenzied rush to reach the life restoring qualities of the Med and the Cote De Azzur.

Overall we had a good time in Bordeaux, but thank the lord we got out alive, I think its also safe to say thank fuck we are all almost going home. This party is near to over.

Thursday, September 27, 2007